Fear
by Nonnihil Scelestus
Summary: He has his fear, but maybe now he has hope too.


Disclaimer: I don't own Babylon 5, but I like to play with the characters.

**Fear**

He doesn't know who to trust anymore. He's suspicious of everyone. He can't help it. Ever since he was shot in the back, the ability to trust doesn't come as easy as it used to, not that it was ever easy to begin with. He's scared too. He's scared of what might happen in the future, in the war; to the people he cares about the most. Most of all he's scared of himself, of what he could do to those same people if he ever lost control. More than that, he's scared of the person he could become if he lost control of his life again, of crawling back into the bottle. He's also scared that someone will push him too far, that he'll kill them. He knows that he's alive, but the fear of living scares him the most.

When he dreams, he dreams of her. His past. He can't help it. She is another one of his fears. She scares him too, the love they had and lost, the love that he could have saved. He's scared of the happiness he had because he knows it doesn't last. He wishes the dreams would stop, but he's scared he wont remember her face if he stops dreaming of the life they had together.

When he see's her, he thinks for a minute it might be Lise, the one he dreams of. The hair is the right color, longer than he remembers ever seeing her wear it, but it looks to have the right texture. He walks toward her with hope in his eyes, surprise on his face, and her name on his lips. She turns and it's like a punch to his gut. It isn't Lise and he doesn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved because deep in the recesses of his heart, he's scared to see her again, of what he might still feel for her.

Once he gets over the shock, he apologizes to the woman. He starts to take in her features. He see's her hair first. What he first thought was the gentle waves of medium brown, he sees now the same gentle waves of silky smooth locks. They were still medium brown, but there were overtones of gold and undertones of chocolate. It has the most interesting range of color across an amazing texture. Then he sees her eyes. Green like sea glass and just as captivating. She's tan like she'd lived on an island all her life, and there is an exotic tilt to her almond shaped eyes. She's beautiful. It crosses his mind like a flash. It's not just her appearance. He thinks she must be as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could trust her.

He introduces himself and she smiles. He likes her smile. It's soft and warm and inviting. Yes, he can trust her. He waits until she tells him her name before he asks her business on the station. Then he asks her if she has a place to stay. He says its because he wants to apologize for his mistake, and she seems to accept that. She says that she has a room in a place called Red Sector. He offers to escort her there. He's not ready to leave her presence yet. She declines, but gives him her unit number, stating that if he wants to see her again, he can give her a tour of the station sometime. He agrees and watches her walk away, intrigued.

When he calls her later that night, after he's off shift, he asks if he can give her a tour the next day. She agrees, and asks when and where she should meet him. He suggests the Zocolo and she agrees. Satisfied that he would see her again, he goes to bed and dreams of the women in his life. It is a welcome change from his usual fear filled nightmares.

"Mr. Garibaldi." Londo addresses him, and he grates his teeth. He is not in the mood to deal with the increasingly irrational Centauri Ambassador. His whole day has been filled with ambassadors of one race or another. He's looking forward to his time spent with her, but he can't spend time with her when Londo is hounding him. He gives the Centauri the brush off as politely as possible so that he can finish his rounds and meet with her.

She is his bright moment for the day. And when he finally sees her amid all the stalls and kiosks, shopping or browsing, one thought slams into his brain, 'Yes, Michael, there is a Santa Claus'. Its cliché, but its funny and he allows a smile to steal across his face while he watches her move toward him at a leisurely pace. She's in no hurry and suddenly neither is he. He likes the fact that she calms him, allows him time to slow down and enjoy the day, especially now that she's in it. Everything has been moving so fast on the station, even faster than when it started, and that is something that he fears just as much as the rest. But she makes it tolerable, makes it almost enjoyable.

He berates himself mentally for putting the cart before the horse. He's only known her for a day, and not really even known her, met her really. Apparently his heart doesn't care, because when she steps closer and tucks her arm through his, it goes wild in his chest, like fireworks on the fourth of July. There's something so familiar about her look, her feel, even her personality. He can't quite put a finger on it, but he knows it's important for him to figure it out, for them both to figure it out. For now though, he's content to walk her through the Zocolo and listen when she speaks, and point out places that she should visit and places she should avoid. He'll take what time he can with her, and maybe this time, he won't take that time for granted.


End file.
